


The Unexpected Consequences Of Housesitting

by skittles_and_oreos16



Series: AU Gallavich [8]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Drunk!Mickey, M/M, housesitting, i don't know what the fuck this is tbh, like mickey is so drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:49:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittles_and_oreos16/pseuds/skittles_and_oreos16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ian told Lip he'd housesit for him while he was on vacation with his girlfriend, he hadn't signed up for taking care of drunk roommates too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unexpected Consequences Of Housesitting

**Author's Note:**

> This is so fucking weird, but I loved the idea and this is what happened :p

When Ian told Lip he'd housesit for him while he was on vacation with his girlfriend, he hadn't signed up for taking care of drunk roommates too. And yet, that's what he found himself doing.

He'd been sprawled across Lip's bed watching a movie when he decided he wanted a beer. He walked down the stairs, through the living room, and to the kitchen.

He'd only just bent over and grabbed a beer from the bottom of the fridge when an ear piecing wolf whistle sounded behind him. He jumped, and in one smooth motion broke the bottle on the door of the fridge and held it front of him.

The dark-haired man in front of him had a had a glassy-eyed look as his eyebrows shot up and a smile crossed over his face. "The fuck are you?" he asked, words slurring together.

Ian tried hard to calm his breathing down and avoided the question, asking one of his own. "Who the fuck am I? Who the fuck are you and how the hell'd you get in here?!"

There was a loud belch before more drunken words smeared themselves together in a half-assed attempt at a sentence. "I- Bed...sleep. And stuff."

Ian, confused, set the broken bottle down on the stove deciding that if he couldn't even fuse together an intelligent sentence, he probably wouldn't be able to do any real harm to his person. "You sleep here?"

The man in front of him snapped his fingers which off set his balance. He leaned against the wall before nodding and saying, "That one. And eat. Food. Are you- You need food?"

Ian wracked his brain trying to figure out who the man was, trying to remember if Lip had mentioned a roommate before he left. It wasn't until his eyes caught sight of the tattoos on his knuckles that the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place.

Mickey Milkovich, he remembered him now. He also remembered the ridiculous crush he'd had on him in 10th grade and a blush started creeping it's way up the back of his neck.

He'd been only a year or two ahead of him, in Lip's grade, when he'd first met him. Sure, everyone knew who the Milkovich brothers were, it was just until then he'd managed to avoid them all. But then Lip had brought Mickey home with him after school one day, the two striking up some odd friendship, and not long after Mickey dropped out. He still came to the house every so often, but other then that he never really saw him much.

Even though he was "dating" Mandy, he never really saw him at their house (not that he was looking for him. 'Cause he wasn't.) and around the same time Lip graduated he moved out of the South Side. Mandy had told him one afternoon not long after, "He said with dad dead and me settled, there really wasn't a reason to stay. He's barely even out of the South Side, but I guess it just feels safer."

Lip hadn't mentioned it, but he figured there was a good chance that Mickey was his roommate. He asked as much and got a nod in return.

Mickey took a stumbling step forward and Ian instinctively shot out to catch him before he fell. "Okay, you're drunk and I think it's time to get you up in bed."

Mickey gave him a disbelieving look before saying, "I'm not drunk."

"Can you even walk a straight line across the floor?"

"There's a fucking line on the floor?" he asked, looking down at the ground for it.

"Jesus, alright come on."

Ian wrapped his arms around the smaller boys waist and tugged him towards the stairs. Surprisingly, the man came willingly, clinging to Ian's arms and taking fumbling steps. Getting up the stairs proved to be quite the challenge however, what with Mickey's continuous tripping, giggling, and well, Ian wasn't exactly sure if you could call it cuddling, more like nuzzling into his neck.

After at least five minutes they finally made it to the top of the stairs. He looked around at the five doors, knowing the one to the left of the stairs was Lip's, but didn't know which one belonged to Mickey. As it turned out, Mickey knew where his room was and tugged Ian in that direction. Ian figured he might need to help him get in bed, the man could barely even hold himself upright, so he followed him in.

They walked, or more like staggered into the room, before the door slammed shut and he was pushed against it. Mickey had his hands fisted in the waistband of his boxers and leaned forward for what Ian assumed was a kiss, but missed and ended up at his chin. That didn't seem to deter him, and instead Mickey began nibbling his way across Ian's jaw.

"Okay," Ian said, trying to work his way out from under Mickey. "That isn't why I'm here."

The man in front of him pulled back and confusion worked its way across his face. "Then why the fuck'd you come home with me?"

"I didn't come home with you," Ian said, exasperated. "I thought I was house-sitting for my brother Lip, who failed to mention Mickey Milkovich was his roommate." He tried, and failed, to once again push away, but for a drunk man Mickey was incredibly unmoving against him.

"I didn't pick you up at The Fairytale?" After a nod he continued, "Wait a minute, you're Gallagher, dated my sister. You've got the freckles and the pale skin, you're pretty hot."

A flush creeped up the back of Ian's neck and he said in a shaky voice, "Uh, yeah. I guess that's me."

Mickey nuzzled his way back into the juncture where his neck met his shoulder and took a deep breath. He made a contented noise before saying, "You smell nice." A beat passed before he continued with, "You know, I always liked gingers."

Ian felt himself relax and he stopped fighting Mickey's fluttering touches as they crawled up his ribs. His breath hitched and Ian's fingers ghosted over Mickey's back. The body under his fingertips arched into the touch and there was a nip at his neck in response. He was slowly losing himself in the heat of hands scraping down his sides, but came back to his head when Mickey started dry-heaving.

"Fuck," Ian muttered and pushed at Mickey's chest. "Bathroom, before you throw up." He started for the door across the room, but Mickey only shook his head.

"M'fine." He walked crookedly to his dresser before tugging off his shirt and throwing it out of the way, next he tugged on his belt until it came loose and worked on unzipping.

"Jesus Christ," Ian muttered, before walking over, unbuttoning his pants, and ripping them off. "Bed," he said.

Mickey started towards it, but stopped when Ian only watched. He huffed and grabbed his arm, jerking him towards his destination with him. Shocked, Ian complied.

Mickey smacked at his chest until he fell onto the bed making an unconscious "umf" noise. The dark-haired man pulled the covers out from under his body and then rearranged his limbs until they were placed how he wanted. After, he crawled up Ian's body so he was stomach down on his chest and pulled the blankets to cover them. He nestled into Ian's neck and in only a few minutes his breath was coming in short puffs, signaling he had fallen asleep.

He'd had too many fantasies in high school about what it would be like with Mickey in bed, and if he was being honest, none of them consisted of him trapped underneath him. At a loss of what to do, he wrapped his arms around Mickey's back and let sleep wash over him.

*

His head was throbbing and his brain was threatening to spill through his ears, but Mickey was enveloped in heat and didn't feel like moving to get something that would relieve the pain. His arms wound tighter around the pillow underneath him as he took a deep breath.

He was getting drowsy when he heard a grunt that he knew wasn't from him. He began to panic, his mind running the scenarios through his pounding head. Terry had somehow risen from the grave in an attempt to beat the fag out of him, or worse yet the past few years had been nothing but a dream and he was going to open his eyes and be back in his narrow twin bed under his fathers thumb.

He tried to convince himself he was only hearing things, he hadn't heard the noise. He burrowed his face deeper into the pillow and took a steadying breath. He never remembered his pillow smelling so different, so good. He also never remembered his pillow having so much skin and....hair?

He shifted around and felt the skin to skin contact. Shit. No matter how shitfaced he was, he kicked the one night stands out before they had the chance to get comfortable. He wiggled around more and felt the fabric of their boxers rubbing against each other.

He popped an eye open and turned his head. Uncoiling his arms, he sat up some and looked down at the man sleeping beneath him. Red hair, freckles, and blindingly pale skin. He knew that body, had watched it move around the Gallagher house, and the halls of school, instead of paying attention to the video games had studied it shirtless as him and Mandy sprayed each other with a hose on hot summer days. Of all the people to spend the night, it _had_ to be Ian fucking Gallagher.

He groaned as he slid off the heat that was beckoning him to stay for just a few moments longer and crawled off the bed. How do you explain to your best friend you banged his brother? He knew could always skirt around the subject, but the truth was the next time he went with Lip to a Gallagher family dinner he wouldn't be able to look at Ian without blushing a shade redder then the tomatoes in the salad. And after that it wouldn't take Lip long to pin him down and figure out why he was acting so fucking weird.

He took the stairs two at a time and walked into the kitchen. The smell of stale beer filled his nose and he couldn't help but grimace. He looked at the floor and saw what was obviously beer dried on the floor. When had that happened? He vaguely recalled someone smashing a beer bottle, he just wasn't sure why.

He went for the mop and bucket and had the spot cleaned in only a few minutes. He'd only just put everything away when he heard heavy footfalls coming down and then Ian appeared in all his six foot, ginger headed glory.

He watched him cross over to the cabinet over the stove and pull out a pill box. He threw it at Mickey before filling a glass with water. "You were hammered last night, figured this might help."

His voice was soft as he held out the glass and Mickey took it with a smile he figured looked like it was caught somewhere between a grimace and a wince. The smile Ian gave him put the morning sunshine to shame.

"So, are you able to string together a sentence that might actually make sense this morning?" Ian asked, voice still quiet.

"I don't know," he replied with a huff. "Exactly what happened last night?" he questioned. He figured the quicker he got this shit figured out the quicker he could get Ian out of the house so he could rub one off in the shower. And definitely not to the image of Ian asleep with the sun bathing his face. That wouldn't be what he was thinking about, not at all.

"You came in drunk, scared the ever loving shit out of me, tried telling me what you were doing here but the two main things I got out of that was sleep and something about food, I helped you up to your room, you mauled me with your mouth because you thought you brought me home from The Fairytale, you stripped to your boxers, pulled me down on the bed, arranged me till you thought you'd be comfortable, and then fell asleep on my chest."

Mickey was barely able to keep up with the waterfall of words that had left Ian's mouth, but he was pretty sure everything after he'd been accused of mauling him with his mouth had become background noise, until the part of him willingly pinning Ian to the bed, he'd heard that loud and clear. "The fuck were you here for?"

"Lip asked me to housesit, although I'm not sure why. Did I mention the part where you wolf whistled at me bent over your fridge?"

Mickey groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Why was there beer all over the floor?"

"I freaked out, broke the bottle I'd gotten. I was planning on using it as a weapon against you, but then I realized you couldn't even say something that didn't make you sound like a toddler and decided you were more than likely harmless."

"Well you should have been scared shitless, I'm a fucking badass when I'm drunk."

"Only if by badass you mean, 'can't walk properly and nuzzle into the first male you see's neck like a fucking puppy', then sure, you're a badass."

Mickey narrowed his eyes at the smirk that was quickly tugging the corners of Ian's mouth and said, "That didn't happen."

"Yeah, actually it did. You also miss people's mouths when your trying to kiss them, you ended up at my chin."

The smirk got impossibly larger and the reasoning behind it made Mickey itch to throw a punch. People didn't laugh at the Milkovich's. Maybe a few years ago he would of, instead he opted for shoving Ian against the nearest surface, which happened to be the fridge, and couldn't help a smirk of his own when Ian's back hit with a hiss.

"Trying to re-live last night, hoping to actually make it up to my mouth this time?" Ian smiled down at him and he pushed his forearm that had him pinned harder into his chest. "Like fuck I'm gonna kiss you!" he nearly shouted.

"Oh yeah? Because you look like you kinda really want to."

Mickey would swear it was because of the arrogant turn the young man's smirk had taken, but he decided there was only one way to get it off his face. So he lunged forward and plastered his mouth to Ian's.

The response was immediate, Ian grabbed onto both his hips and tugged him forward, Mickey delved into that red hair he'd always wanted to get his hands on and tugged him down, closer. His lips were pried apart with an insistent tongue and he opened up enough to let it slide in. Their tongues danced together as Ian pulled him tighter against his body. If they hadn't been so lost in the moment they would have heard the door open.

Instead, there was a laugh that followed with an amused, "Fucking finally." They jumped apart to see Lip studying them, smile spread across his face. "Amanda told me if I let you two go for a day or two you'd figure it out."

Mickey slapped the hand that was tugging at his boxers away before saying, "You two fucking planned this?" Lip gave him a look that said he should have already known this, and yeah maybe he should of, but he was fucking plastered last night and words seemed to fly out of Ian's mouth faster then a race car at the Indy 500. He huffed before grabbing Ian's hand and saying, "Come on Mr. McGrabby, let's go finish this without an audience."

He heard a faint, "It's not like I wanted to see that shit, it'd be like fucking incest," but was too distracted by the mouth working a mark into his neck to be bothered by it.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos keep writers going ((: I'm over on tumblr @inside-a-writers-mind18 so come say hi and we can cry about how shitty last week's episode was ((: <3


End file.
